


how to keep turning when the world goes still

by wrenegade_writes



Series: you and i and the earth against us [1]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Angst, College Student Adam Parrish, Dissociation, Hurt Adam Parrish, M/M, Robert Parrish Is His Own Warning, angst & hurt/comfort, he doesn’t actually appear but you can probably tell what type of fic this is now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:53:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26614786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenegade_writes/pseuds/wrenegade_writes
Summary: Adam is fine. Adam is good. He moved out of Henrietta and never looked back and his past is a faraway thing that cannot touch him anymore. He’s okay.And then, suddenly, he’s not.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Series: you and i and the earth against us [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1936429
Comments: 2
Kudos: 104





	how to keep turning when the world goes still

**Author's Note:**

> Got in an angst-writing mood and threw it at Adam! Sorry Adam. Mostly un-edited and written in like two hours so pardon my mistakes!!

They’re walking on the street when it happens. Broad daylight. Clear blue Cambridge sky, only a few drifting clouds to break it up. Cliche as it may seem, it is a  _ good  _ day. Adam just finished his last class and he and Ronan are walking to their apartment and in two hours they’re meeting Gansey, Blue, Henry, and Noah for dinner. Everything is fine. 

“Adam?” 

He stops walking. 

He stops breathing. 

He stops.

“Adam. Parrish. What, are you too good to even look at me?” 

He is nothing. He is dust. 

-0-0-0-

They’re walking on the street when it happens. Ronan picked Adam up from his last class and they’re going home and then to dinner and it is a  _ beautiful goddamn day  _ until the exact moment it isn’t.

Ronan hears “Adam,” and thinks,  _ classmate, teacher, passing acquaintance _ , in the half second before Adam goes completely and utterly still beside him. His eyes are unfocused, glassy, staring straight at the horizon. His breath comes out of his parted lips in a weak rush and he doesn’t breathe in. 

Something is very, very wrong. 

“Adam. Parrish. What, are you too good to even look at me?”

Ronan turns. Ronan thinks,  _ mother _ . Ronan thinks,  _ monster _ . The two are the same thought. 

“What the fuck do you want?” he snarls. His voice is shaking. He pretends it’s a growl. Adam hasn’t taken a breath in 18 seconds. 

“It’s about his father.”

Ronan bares his teeth at her, savage, an animal. She takes a step back. She is so much of Adam, or Adam is so much of her. The same strangely made face, the same cheekbones, the same eyes with the same shadows underneath them. The only difference is, Adam  _ left.  _

“Fuck his father. And fuck you too, while we’re at it.” 

She steps forward again, bold, reaches toward Adam’s shoulder. “Adam-“

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ touch him!” Ronan says. Maybe shouts. Adam flinches, the tiniest thing, and knives slice straight through Ronan’s gut. He needs to keep some goddamn  _ control.  _

People are starting to notice, to stare. Ronan knows how it looks, him and her, a woman in a dress still dusted with Henrietta and a dangerous man in black snarling at her. He knows who looks like the bad guy. 

Adam is still fucking  _ catatonic _ , though, so he can’t bring himself to care. 

“Leave us alone,” Ronan snaps. “I’m not asking twice.” 

“I left a message at his work,” she says, her eyes on her son’s back. “Tell him to call me.”

“I’m not telling him to do shit.” 

She looks at them both for another long moment, weighing whatever it is she feels for Adam against the full weight of Ronan’s unbalanced fury, and finally she leaves. 

Ronan watches long enough for her to get a safe distance away, and goes to Adam. He’s not sure if he can touch, if that will help Adam or break him. His eyes are so far away. There’s nothing at all inside of him. The cold, sick feeling that settles in his stomach is the worst thing Ronan has ever felt. 

“Adam,” he says, so softly. “Adam. Look at me.”

Adam blinks, slow.

Adam looks at him.

-0-0-0-

He doesn’t know how much time has passed by the time he looks at Ronan. His chest aches, in an absent sort of way, and the part of him still forming thoughts wonders if that’s concerning. If he should worry about not knowing what happened. About anything. 

“Adam,” Ronan says. “Breathe.”

Adam does. 

“Let’s go home.”

They do. 

Adam walks, staring at some point on the ground in front of him. Ronan takes his hand, laces Adam’s limp fingers with his own. Adam should probably be holding his hand back. The thought slips into his brain and just as quickly slides away again. He wants to close his eyes. If he does he might not open them. He lets Ronan lead him, and walks, and breathes. 

At some point they reach the apartment. Adam stands in the doorway, mute and numb and not entirely human. Ronan guides him, gently (so gently) over to the couch. He might tell him to sit, Adam isn’t sure. He sits. Ronan takes off his shoes, tosses them aside. Half of a slippery thought about not leaving things lying around the house slides against the edge of Adam’s mind. 

Ronan crouches in front of him, forearms on his knees. It strikes Adam as the sort of position one would take to talk to a frightened child. He’s not sure how he feels about that. He’s not sure how he feels. 

“Adam. Talk to me.” 

Adam blinks exactly once, tries to get his brain to tell his mouth what to say. Something gets lost in translation and nothing comes out. Adam has the odd, fleeting thought that maybe he doesn’t have a mouth to speak anymore. 

Ronan says something else Adam doesn’t catch and slowly moves to sit on the other end of the couch. Adam only sees that out of the corner of his eye; he’s too busy staring at the spot Ronan used to occupy. Keeping his eyes open. Breathing.

It’s a long time later or no time at all when finally rational thought clicks into place with startling clarity: his mother found him. She found him, in Cambridge, in  _ his  _ place, with Ronan, and she could find him  _ again _ , and he hasn’t left Henrietta behind at all. He will never stop running and it will never stop catching him.

He’s breathing now. Too much. Too hard. His mother found him. There is nothing but static in his head, radio static with bits of words slipping in on the edges. His hands are shaking. They don’t feel like a part of him.

Adam finds his voice at last. “Ronan.”

-0-0-0-

It’s two hours on the couch, long enough for Ronan to pick up a  _ book _ , still half-watching Adam out of the corner of his eye, waiting grimly for the snap of the glass in his eyes. 

Adam says his name and Ronan drops the book and scrambles to be in front of him in half a second. Adam is shaking, Adam looks up and his eyes are Adam but they’re not  _ Ronan’s _ Adam, they’re deep and deeply afraid. Gentle, wary, Ronan touches one of Adam’s hands, and that’s all it takes. Adam flings himself at Ronan or Ronan wraps himself around Adam or both at the same time. Ronan maneuvers them so they’re sitting on the couch, doesn’t say a word when Adam shifts so he’s sitting sideways in Ronan’s lap, like a child. Just holds him as tightly as he dares and rubs a hand up and down Adam’s back because just once, in a rare and vulnerable moment, Adam had admitted it was comforting.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Ronan says, useless, stupid, “You’re okay, come on, Adam, talk to me.”

Adam’s fingers fist in his shirt. “ _ Ronan _ .”

The stupid disgusting possessive part of Ronan is pleased that all Adam can think to say is his name. The rational part wants to beat that side of him into pieces because Adam, his Adam, his genius, has no words and it doesn’t feel good at all. 

“What do you need,” Ronan asks. He’s started rocking them both, gently, and he isn’t sure why but Adam hasn’t protested so he doesn’t stop. Not that Adam would protest, right now. “Tell me what you need.”

“Tell me what to do,” Adam says, barely louder than a whisper, thick and slurred at the edges like the words were hard to get out. “I can’t. I can’t think. It’s too. Much.” 

Okay. Okay. Ronan can work with that, probably. “Okay. Can you stand?” Too late he realizes it’s a question, and wonders if that’s allowed.

Adam nods minutely against his chest. 

“Go into the bedroom then. Um. Get in your pajamas.” Hell if Ronan knows what he’s doing, but comfortable clothes and a bed seem a safe bet. 

For a second, Adam doesn’t move, and then he stands, stiffly, and goes into the bedroom. Ronan goes to the kitchen. There’s nothing comforting or simple in their cupboards but some chocolate chips, but sugar is always a good thing so he grabs them and two bottles of water and goes to the bedroom. Knocks on the door. No response.

“Adam? I’m coming in.” 

Nothing. Ronan opens the door. Adam, still fully dressed, has a dresser drawer open and is staring down at it. 

“Gansey,” is all he says, so quietly Ronan isn’t sure for a moment he heard him right. “We’re supposed to…”

He doesn’t finish, but Ronan knows the end of the sentence anyway. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Get dressed, okay?” He turns around—nothing he hasn’t seen before, but everything with Adam feels strangely fragile right now and he isn’t about to push anything—and pulls out his phone. 

From Gansey, there’s a worried text he missed somewhere twenty minutes ago:  _ Where are you? _

_ with parrish. smthn came up. _

The response comes in seconds:  _ The good sort of something? _

_ family emergency _

_ Who? Aurora? Matthew? Declan?  _ Gansey’s worry even through text is palpable.

_ not me. adam _

There’s a very long pause. The three dots that indicate Gansey’s typing appear and disappear, appear and disappear, and finally the message comes through. 

_ You’re taking care of him? _

Ronan sends back a quick  _ yes  _ before he sets his phone down. Barely ten seconds later it vibrates. He ignores it. 

Adam has changed into what passes for pajamas, sweatpants and a soft, large gray t-shirt. Ronan takes his meager supplies of chocolate and water and climbs into their bed, leaning up against the pillows. He throws the comforter back and pats the mattress a little. “C’mere.” 

Adam climbs stiffly into bed, pulls the comforter over his lap with hands that still tremble. Ronan opens a water bottle and passes it over. Adam manages to sip at it, takes a handful of chocolate chips when Ronan offers him the bag. Ronan does the same, and they sit like that for several minutes, eating too much chocolate and sipping water, before Adam finally speaks.

“She found me. Here.”

Ronan knows the general shape this is going to take. He doesn’t have the details yet to respond. In the most neutral voice he can manage he says, “She did.”

Adam tries to drink more water. His hand shakes so violently it spills and he sets it back in his lap. His eyes don’t ever move from a spot on the wall in front of him. “So she can find me again. In, invade this place.”

Ronan says, “She won’t. I told her to leave us alone. They can’t touch you anymore.”

Adam makes a sound that might be the ghost of a laugh. “Okay.” It’s not an agreement. It's a strategic retreat, it’s  _ I’m tired of fighting,  _ even though they weren’t. Ronan lets it go.

“Did you tell Gansey?” Adam asks suddenly, after a moment of silence. 

“Yeah. It’s okay.” 

Ronan’s phone buzzes on the dresser, across the room. Adam looks at it. “Sure?”

He shrugs. “Gansey can wait. You should sleep.”

Adam looks down at his lap, toys with the sheets. “You don’t have to tell me what to do anymore. I can, I can think straight, now. Sometimes it just takes a minute.”

“Feed your Adam sugar and water, wait ten minutes, operation will resume as normal,” Ronan jokes. The side of Adam’s mouth lifts in the ghost of a smile. Ronan counts it as a win. “Besides, even if you  _ can  _ think, any ideas other than  _ nap, now _ mean your brain is still broken.”

“It’s only, what time is it…” Adam frowns like he has no idea, and that hurts, that he’s lost time, “Five? Six?”

“Around seven, actually,” Ronan says softly. 

Adam takes a careful, controlled breath. “Okay. That’s still early, though.”

“Mental and emotional rollercoasters take a lot out of you, genius,” Ronan says. “You gotta sleep.  _ And  _ I’m tired, too, and I want someone to nap with me.” 

“That’s a lie,” Adam says, in the voice that means he knows it isn’t. Ronan is nearly as bad an insomniac as Gansey, Adam knows this. He could never  _ not  _ use an extra couple hours of sleep. 

His phone buzzes again. Adam, sliding down under the covers, gives it a significant look. “Better answer that. If it’s Gansey.”

With a long-suffering sigh that is entirely fake Ronan slides out of bed and retrieves his phone. The last two texts are from Blue:

_ answer your phone, asshole _

_ youre making my boyfriend worry. you know gansey’s a terrible worrier _

Ronan does. If he doesn’t respond to Gansey’s texts  _ usually, _ it’s fine, but after what’s just happened the guy is liable to be breaking down his door any minute. He doesn’t bother responding to Blue, just goes over to Gansey’s messages. There’s just the one text from him, the one sent right after Ronan put his phone down. A continuation of their earlier conversation.

_ You’re taking care of him? _

_ yes _

_ And who’s taking care of you? _

Ronan scowls a little, and only then realizes his teeth are clenched tight. He makes an effort to loosen his jaw; his teeth are aching. When did that start? He shakes his head a little and ruefully types out a reply.

_ gonna guess his name starts with d and ends w ick _

The message is marked read in a matter of seconds, and a moment later someone knocks softly on the door. Ronan glances back at Adam, curled with his back to Ronan, and then slips out of the bedroom to answer the door. 

“Go away,” he says before he’s even properly opened it. 

“Hello to you too,” Blue says, and marches in. Gansey and Henry file in after her. “How’s Adam?”

“Sleeping,” Ronan tells her.

Her eyes go wide and worried, peering over his shoulder at the bedroom. Henry puts his hands on her shoulders, wearing nearly the exact same expression. Gansey, for his part, is channeling his anxiety into energy, already messing around with something in the kitchen. 

Ronan forgets, sometimes, that other people love Adam. He forgets sometimes that other people love  _ him _ . 

“How bad was it?” Blue asks softly. 

“His mom showed up. We were walking, and she said his name, and he just...he just stopped. His eyes...there wasn’t any Adam in there.” 

“What did she want?” Henry asks, even softer.

“Don’t know,” Ronan says. “Don’t care. Something about his father.”

“You didn’t ask why she was there?” Gansey chimes in, a few feet away in the kitchen. 

“Oh, I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Ronan snarls, and he is aware that’s not fair but he can’t stop, suddenly, “my boyfriend stopped fucking breathing on the sidewalk and it was the scariest shit I’ve seen in my life so  _ excuse _ me for not asking the woman who did that to him what  _ exactly  _ the purpose of her visit was.”

Gansey doesn’t reply. The room is quiet for a long moment, and then, “Don’t you two own bowls?” 

Henry laughs like he tried to hold it in and failed. Gansey comes out of the kitchen holding a steaming coffee mug. Ronan says, “They were put to better use than holding...what is this, chicken noodle soup? I’m not sick.”

“Unfortunately you are,” Blue puts in. “An incurable disease. It’s called  _ caring  _ about  _ people _ .”

Ronan says, “Disgusting.” Gansey holds out a spoon and Ronan ignores it, opting to sip his soup like it  _ is  _ coffee. “Can I return it?”

“Too late! You have a heart now!” Henry skips around Blue and goes to perch on the armrest of the couch. “We’re staying here tonight, by the way.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes we are,” Blue says firmly. “We can sleep on the couch.” 

Ronan raises an eyebrow. “All three of you?”

“We’ll manage,” Gansey says.

“Also, we brought sleeping bags!” Henry chimes in. 

Ronan gives up and goes back into the bedroom with his mug of soup. It takes a little doing to maneuver into bed without spilling it, but before long he’s settled and slurping jt as quietly as he can. Adam is soft and asleep next to him. Ronan sets the bug on the nightstand and wriggles down to lay beside Adam, throws an arm over his body and pulls him in.

They’re okay. They’re going to keep being okay. Whatever happens next, they can handle it.

Ronan kisses Adam’s hair and drifts into sleep. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! Comments and kudos make my WEEK, nudge nudge.


End file.
